Direct the Current
by Trish47
Summary: Annie waits at the bar, wondering if he'll show up, wondering what she'll do if he does. Post-ep for "A Girl Like You." Two-shot. Annie/Eyal Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Gasp! What's this? A fic that doesn't feature the A/A pairing? Blasphemy! C'mon, you know you want to give it a try. ;) Enjoy!  
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**Note: Starts right at the end of "A Girl Like You." If you haven't watched it yet, you should. Great ep!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs. It belongs to NBC Universal. Not making any money here.**

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><p><span>Direct the Current<span>

_He's not coming_.

Her smoky-eyed glance lands on the glass doors at the entrance to the bar and lounge. She cycles through points of contact. The doors. The countertop. The chip in her French manicure. Anything to avoid the sympathetic gaze of the bartender, who's already asked if she'd like another.

She refuses to believe she's been stood up, blown off, or forgotten. Those things happen to people on dates. This is not a date.

Annie focuses her search on the adjoining hotel lobby, scanning passersby for the familiar tall, broad-shouldered frame of the Mossad agent. No luck.

Hotel guests come and go, blissfully unaware of their surroundings. No one has informed them that, a few hours ago, a team of CIA officers stormed the lobby brandishing automatic weapons as they hunted down Israeli terrorists. How could they know that the frenzied skirmish on the eighth floor and the faceoff on the roof resulted in one man's death and left another with a bullet in his shoulder?

There are times when she envies civilians and their obliviousness.

Two years into the business, it's easier to compartmentalize certain aspects of the job—the constant reminders that there are bad people in this world don't faze her as much—but Annie still struggles with the tougher stuff. Like seeing someone she cares for get shot. It's all part of the job, a disclosed risk, but it doesn't alleviate the nauseating feeling of nearly losing a friend.

Annie never wants to feel that way again. At the same time, she knows she will. And the next time, things could be worse. Next time, it could be Eyal—or Jai or Auggie or herself—lying on the ground, lifeless.

This little voice inside her head is one that she must consciously try to smother. Thinking of "next times" and "what ifs" will make her go crazy. There's no making it in this business on hypotheticals.

_Learn from your mistakes, and move on._

It was a mistake to come here tonight; a mistake full of wishful thinking. Annie gently bites the inside of her cheek, fixes a wrinkle on the bottom of her dress, and returns both hands to her glass. The chip in her manicure must be from her fight earlier in the evening.

_Just one more time_. Natural curiosity combined with an unusually high level of anticipation keep making her search for him. Each glance only heightens her disappointment. It needs to stop. _One more time, then I'm leaving._

Eyal is twenty minutes late. . .to a meet which he initiated. At least, that's how she remembers it happening. He'd whispered his invitation—if that's really what it was—to her before being carted off to the awaiting ambulance:

"You know, that current I keep talking about," he'd said with that mischievous smile that implied he was up to something, "it might take me to the bar downstairs around eleven o'clock."

She had smiled while rolling her eyes at his cheekiness, shaking her head with a laugh. It was meant to be a sign of acceptance—coy acceptance, but affirmation nonetheless. Had he misinterpreted her reaction to mean she wouldn't come?

_I have to start being more direct_.

The last mouthful of her drink is warm, and it's not a good warm. It's the kind of warmth that comes from nursing one drink for nearly half an hour. It's similar to the unpleasant heat that colors her cheeks while nodding goodnight to the sympathetic bartender because it's clear that Eyal is not coming.

Being stood up—even if it _isn't _a date—is bad enough. When the invitation comes from someone else, it's even more embarrassing.

There are certainly logical, forgivable reasons for why Eyal didn't show up. Maybe the hospital decided to keep him overnight for observation; the man had been shot after all. Maybe Agent Rossabi put him on a red-eye back to Israel. Maybe Eyal realized that this isn't what he wants, that the metaphorical current he described is steering him down a course where their paths aren't meant to cross.

No matter the explanation—and she's sure he has one—it leaves her with an aching disappointment. It seems that every time they part ways, it gets a little harder. She's grown attached to the charming, screw-the-rules-whenever-possible Mossad agent.

Someone holds the door on her way out of the bar. Out of habit, she flashes a polite smile, but she barely raises her head in acknowledgement, still too lost in her "maybe" scenarios and trying to figure out why this not-a-date was so meaningful to her.

"I must be very good-looking for you to wait this long, yes?"

His voice brings her to a sharp pause. When she pivots, she sees Eyal still holding the door with his right hand. His left arm is in a dark sling, but only a few would guess that he wears it to lessen the strain on his stitched-up bullet wound.

He's changed his clothes, opting for a black suit jacket and a white shirt that doesn't have a blood stain just above his heart.

As always, he looks _good_.

"Didn't think you were going to show," Annie tells him.

"I like to surprise people," he says with his trademark smile, finally letting the door swing shut. He steps closer, then adds, "You see, I was on my way from the hospital when I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

Dark eyes practically gleam beneath full lashes in the bright lights of the hotel lobby. His grin grows at her confused expression. "That I owe you something."

One of her eyebrows hikes toward her hairline, but she can feel her lips pull into a smile. Eyal reaches inside of his suit jacket, wincing only slightly at upsetting his slung arm, and pulls out a sleek, new phone.

Her jaw drops a little in surprise as she turns her hand palm up. She never actually expected him to replace the phone he tossed out of his moving car. Eyal places the iPhone into her open hand tenderly, folding her fingers over the device to ensure it won't fall. She almost laughs at the boyish pride reflected in his eyes for a job well done.

"I took the liberty of entering my number," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

She can't contain her laughter anymore. Eyal looks pleased with her reaction.

Annie tucks the new phone into her clutch, then inclines her head in the direction of the bar. "Should we go inside and get a drink?"

"Is that what you want?" His voice is suddenly low, husky with intent.

This is a question loaded with consequences. They can go back into the bar, share a few drinks and ample flirtation, and part as friends. Or, they could pick up where they left off earlier in room 811 and leave as something else.

Eyal leans in, closing the distance between them to a few inches. Her skin picks up the heat coming from his body, putting all her senses on high alert. His whisper rasps against her ear—a sensation she's beginning to enjoy: "I have a room at the hotel across the street."

Even if she wasn't sure about his invitation to the bar, there's no mistaking where he stands now. The ball is hers to play.

_Be direct_, she reminds herself.

Resting a hand on his chest and standing on her tiptoes as much as her Louis Vuittons will allow, she whispers back, "You don't waste time, I'll give you that."

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><p><strong>AN: Don't get me wrong. I'm still an avid A/A shipper. But these two are adorable together and that slow motion make out session from last night was hot! You can't deny that there's chemistry there.  
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**I'm intensely curious to hear your thoughts. On the story. On the A/E vs. A/A relationship. On the meaning of life. (Okay, so not that last one.)  
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**Thinking that this a two-shot. I have some ideas on where it could go. I'm thinking "M" territory right now, but I'll see what you all think in the comments. How smutty (or not smutty) do I go? ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone for being so supportive of this. I really didn't think it would draw so much attention. The general consensus seems to be Annie/Eyal for the short term or a fun fling, but Annie/Auggie in the long term. Works for me. :)**

**Here's the follow up. As you can see by the continued T-rating, things don't get too spicy. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><em>Bizzzzzz. . ..Bizzzzzz. . ..<br>_

The warm hand draped loosely around her waist slowly relinquishes its hold. Eyal shifts his body carefully, trying not to rest too much weight on her as he reaches over her shoulder to grab the vibrating phone from the nightstand. Even though he disturbs her very little, she's still aware of every movement he makes.

"It's cute that you think I'm asleep," Annie murmurs into the pillow. The fogginess of slumber makes her voice less distinctive. Her limbs feel heavy, lethargic; her body hasn't had a chance to rest and recharge after their romp.

_One romp, three rounds_, Annie clarifies as the images come back to her._ I don't think I've hit REM all night_.

There had been three distinctive rounds to the sex. The first had been hot and fast; it lacked finesse but the novelty of the intimate connection made up for the few bumps they made. But, as with most things that are rushed, the payoff was not all that it could have been.

Round two had gone much better. They'd taken their time, let the passion simmer instead of boil—a steady climb to completion. Eyal had paid special attention to the sensitive spot on her inner thigh, and Annie had learned her counterpart had quite a high level of endurance.

After a needed break—where some sleeping may or may not have occurred—round three began with Eyal's fingers ghosting up her spine. Their third go was the slowest, leisurely. It was an opportunity to explore, to discover scars and marks and tender places on each other's bodies. They used only lips, eyes, and hands to perform their studies.

Sometime in the early morning, they finally settled; Annie was exhausted but happy—happier than she had been in a good while.

A short laugh comes from the back of his throat, bringing Annie out of her pleasant replay of the night's activities.

"Being a light sleeper is a good skill in our business," Eyal praises offhandedly while dismissing the phone's alarm with one tap and placing it back on the nightstand. Then he returns his hand to her side, as though he has time to linger, which he doesn't.

"Or maybe I'm a light sleeper because _some_body likes to cuddle," Annie teases.

He nuzzles his nose into the side of her neck, planting a soft kiss at its base. "I sleep best with a beautiful woman in my arms. Don't you?"

She laughs, half from his ridiculous statement—that she should probably should take exception to—and half from the ticklish sensation the scruff on his jaw sends across her back. "Not quite."

Annie glances at the actual alarm clock on the nightstand. Eyal's flight leaves in a little over two hours. Given the intensity and slow pace of security at Dulles International, he has to leave soon or he'll never make his plane. There won't even be time for them to get coffee in the hotel's café.

"I have to go," Eyal says into the skin of her left shoulder, echoing her thoughts. His voice is a low, deep rumble. "If I could stay here, I would."

She's not sure if he means stay 'here' in the United States, or stay 'here,' in bed with her. Annie's afraid of knowing the real answer.

_Let's not complicate this more than it already is, Annie_, she cautions herself.

She lowers her own hand to cover the one Eyal keeps rooted on her abdomen, his fingers splayed evenly from the top of her hip to the bottom of her ribcage. Annie spreads her fingers to fit in between the spaces, then curves them underneath his hand. Pressing gently, Annie tries to convey that she'd like it if Eyal stayed a while longer too.

Her words are a contradiction to her feelings, but they must be said. "Agent Rossabi will hunt you down if you miss your flight."

"He's a very uptight little man, isn't he?" Eyal muses as he fully entwines their hands and squeezes back. Then he says, "Rossabi doesn't get it."

"Get what?"

His response is not immediate, so Annie releases her hold on his hand and turns over to face him. He has propped his head up in his right hand; she mimics his pose, acting as a mirror image. Their elbows touch on the pillow.

She raises her eyebrows as if to say, _I'm still waiting_.

His grin is slow, sexy. It's the kind of grin that could persuade any woman into falling for him, including Annie. Then again, considering where she's at and what she's done in the past few hours, Annie's willing to admit that she might already be lost.

"He doesn't know that fighting the current is pointless," he says.

"You really like this metaphor, don't you?" she quips, smiling.

"Oh yes," he responds in kind, adding a wink for extra effect. "It's the secret to life."

"Do tell, philosopher Levin."

"It's simple," he explains with a professorial tone. "When you fight the current, even if you reach your destination, you lose."

"Like salmon?" she asks.

He nods. "Salmon teach us about life. Rossabi doesn't understand that."

"The salmon?

Eyal shakes his head, seeing that he's lost her in his explanation. "He doesn't understand that the current is meant to guide."

"I see," she responds, back on track. "And where does it lead to?"

His eyes hold onto hers. "It brought me here," he says without even a pause for contemplation. "This is the third time we've crossed paths."

"I'm well aware."

"You are?"

"Eyal, you're a very. . .memorable guy."

He laughs. "And you are a very _memorable_ woman, Annie Walker." He uses his index finger to tap the end of her nose, punctuating his point. "What I mean is that maybe the current is trying to tell us something."

"You don't think our accidental run-ins have anything to do with our jobs?"

"Not much of a romantic, are you?" he teases, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Oh, I am," she corrects him, using her pinky to trace his collarbone. "I'm just not sure I buy into this destiny stuff."

He rolls his eyes, exasperated. Annie chuckles softly at his reaction, then leans in and kisses him.

In the middle of the lip lock, Eyal's phone begins to vibrate again. Annie pulls away, sighing. She flips over again and retrieves the phone, turning off the second alarm.

"I'm beginning to understand your hatred for phones," she tells him.

"I'd let you destroy it," Eyal says as he takes the phone from her, "but it wouldn't change the fact that I have to leave."

"I know."

The ensuing silence is filled with an emotion that she can't pin down. While this might have been a one night stand in a way, in another, it was something else. Something more. She's not sure how to bring an end to it, but knows it must be done.

Eyal is the one to initiate the goodbyes. He sits up, stretches. Annie also sits up, keeping the sheet around her chest modestly. He turns to her and presses a kiss to her forehead before getting out of bed and gathering his clothes.

Annie watches him with fascination and more than a little delight as he goes about getting ready. She notes the patch of dark, dry blood that appeared on the bandage covering his bullet wound sometime in the night.

_He must have popped his stitches_, Annie guesses. _Probably during round one_.

Once he's collected all of his belongings from around the hotel room, run a hand over his hair, and finished adjusting his shoulder sling, he says, "You should go back to sleep, Annie. It's still quite early."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement. Even though she's a morning person, four o'clock—after a night of minimal sleep and maximum exertion—is still too early. She knows that once Eyal leaves, she'll likely go back to sleep until checkout.

"We should do this again sometime," he comments as his hand rests on the door handle.

"Should we?" she questions.

"Shouldn't we?" He smiles at her, making her laugh and shake her head at his directness. "It would certainly make our next stay-over in a safe-house more entertaining."

"Eyal. . ." she draws out in warning.

He nods his head at her, saying in a soft, warm voice, "Until our currents cross again."

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><p><strong>AN: That's it for this fic. To everyone who reviewed and doesn't have an account I can respond to, thanks for reading and leaving comments! I really appreciate it.**

** After writing this, I've got a slew of other ideas for this pairing. Hopefully I'll have time to write them after graduation in December! Until then, I hope to read good A/E fics from some of you! :)  
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